


We Move to Feel

by Haepherion



Category: Psycho-Pass
Genre: 5+1 Things, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Multi, S1-Freeform, kagari needs more fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-03-03 13:57:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2853284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haepherion/pseuds/Haepherion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kagari wonders sometimes why his team members continue to treat him as a human being, when it's obvious that he was born with tar running through his veins, and smoke clouding his psycho-pass. </p><p>(Or, five times a member of the team does something nice for Kagari.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Shinya Kougami

**Author's Note:**

> Set during S1.

Kagari sighs, rolling so that he’s sitting up in bed.

_Senpai, would you like some treatment to help you fall asleep?_

His cheerful holographic fox avatar chirps from where it’s curled on his nightstand. Kagari rubs a hand across his eyes. For someone whose crime coefficient is through the roof, he wonders why he’s still able to see grisly images of those he’s eliminated flash behind his eyeballs before he falls asleep at night.

“No,” Kagari says firmly, because no matter how terrible his nightmares are, he is most certainly not about to drug himself to sleep. He's had enough of that to last him a lifetime (or rather, enough of it for the last 13 years that he never, ever wants to take any sort of mood-altering drugs again).

 _It is recommended that you return to bed and take compound A143 to sleep, so that your hue will not be darker tomorrow_ , his golden fox hologram tells him and he waves an annoyed hand at it.

“I’m okay.”

He’s always wondered if the other Enforcers feel the same way, even the ones that were the good guys before. Kougami, Masaoka, how can they live with themselves knowing what they’ve become?

Kagari supposes he never had a chance. Maybe he was always born a monster. He must have been, if his psycho pass was already clouded at five years old.

Sometimes, he wishes he could go back in time and give his younger self a hug. Maybe that would have helped clear up his (permanently) gray hue.

Kagari clambers out of bed and throws on a pair of sweats and an old t-shirt.

“Requesting access to the gym and training facilities,” Kagari says to his fox, which tilts its head.

 _One moment, Kagari-san_ it says, jumping into its burrow. Kagari thinks it’s cute, that whenever his avatar needs to retrieve information it hides in his burrow. Almost like a real fox, digging for food.

 _You are allowed to access the gym and training facilities. Door unlocked_ the fox says when it pokes its head out of the burrow. Well, Kagari has Gino to thank for that, at least. Though it wouldn’t be the first time that Gino got a call at three in the morning, requesting permission to go down to the gym. Must have been why Gino had cleared all of them for gym access, so he could at least get some shuteye without having someone call him for permission every night.

 _Report back in two hours, maximum!_ The fox calls, and then it dissipates. Kagari nods, slipping on a pair of shoes and padding out the door.

The gym is only two levels below his bedroom, located conveniently in the middle of the tower so that everyone can get there without travelling too far. It’s a decent size, taken up with a large training mat in the center of the floor and various weights off to the side.

It’s an old gym, the technology there practically archaic. No one really uses it, he supposes, though there’s already a figure resting on the floor of the mat, head tipped back as he drinks from a water bottle. Kagari blinks, scanning in through the door of the gym.

It’s Kougami, which isn’t a surprise—there are only a handful of places that Kougami usually inhabits, and if he’s not in the gym he’s usually in his room. And plus, Kagari has seen the way he fights during a mission. Efficient, fierce, well trained. There have been few instances where Kougami has needed to use brute force to contain a victim, but Kagari guesses it would be nice to be that strong.

Kougami nods at him in acknowledgment when he sets his water bottle down, next to the broken fighting droid. Kagari looks at him with what he hopes is a put-out expression. He’d been hoping to use the droid for some stress relief…

Kougami catches his gaze and shrugs. “Sorry,” he says, taking another sip from his water bottle. Kagari glances at the difficulty setting and balks when he sees the level.

“Level 100? And you still managed to kick its ass?”

Kougami shrugs again.

“Damn,” Kagari says, resigning himself to just sticking with lifting some weights for the night. The gym didn’t bother with keeping any backup drones since so few people used them. Kagari lets his mind wander as he moves over to the weight lifting bench and picks up a dumbbell. He wonders what could possibly have compelled Kougami to not only fight so hard against the drone, but to utterly defeat it, to punch it into the ground so hard that bits of machinery flew out. It was almost as if he had some sort of personal vendetta against the thing, like he was imagining someone else in place of the drone.

Kougami observes with watchful eyes, and after Kagari does a set of reps with his left arm, Kougami stands back up on the mat.

“Sorry about the drone. You could spar with me, if you’d like?”

Kagari pauses in his lifting, setting the weight back on the shelf with a clank.

“Spar with you?”

Kougami nods, widening his stance and dropping into a fighting pose, fists up. “Why not. I’ll even go easy on you.”

Kagari narrows his eyes, seeing the challenge for what it is.

“Alright then,” he mutters, moving over to the mat and crouching.

Actually, out of all the times that him and Kougami have been in the gym together, not once have they actually fought each other. All the other times, Kagari had either used the drone first, or they had come at different times, catching the other just as they were on their way out. He knew what Kougami had skill, and raw strength going for him.

But he also knows he is faster than Kougami, that his shorter height and lighter weight are his weak and strong points, and he can use them to his advantage, blocking and dodging attacks until Kougami eventually tires out enough for Kagari to spot an opening.

Except Kougami doesn’t tire.

Kagari can feel sweat dripping down his now-wet hair, bangs falling in his eyes that he desperately tires to brush away as Kougami launches another series of punches and aerial kicks. He is a beast of a fighter, and some of the kicks he lands are already starting to bruise on Kagari’s forearms.

They move almost like a pair of dancers, Kagari flitting in and out of range of attack to spy moments when Kougami lets his guard down. He even manages to get a few punches in before Kougami gets the upper hand again, and it’s frustrating, to say the least.

The fifth time that Kougami lands him on the mat Kagari growls, fist pounding on the floor in anger.

“Damn it!” he yells, his frustration muffled into the soft padding of the mat.

“Your stance is too narrow,” Kougami says quietly, getting off his back and offering a hand to help him up. “You’re putting too much of your balance into your upper body. It makes you faster on your feet, but if someone sweeps your legs you're toast.”

Kagari pants hard, wiping sweat out of his eyes. “What??”

“Like this,” Kougami says, dropping into a stance that Kagari realizes is supposed to reflect his own fighting style. He immediately sees what is different—his fists aren’t raised high enough, his feet to close together, his stance to hunched too low instead of open, limiting his lateral movement.

Kougami swings out a punch and Kagari catches it instinctively, easily.

“See what I mean?” Kougami says.

“Can…you show me more?” Kagari asks.

Kougami nods.

In the end they spend the entire two hours fighting, Kougami walking him through different techniques that will help him have more power in his punches and speed in his movements, playing into his advantages. And by the end, Kagari even manages to throw Kougami down a few times.

“You’re a fast learner,” Kougami tells him when Kagari’s wrist device chimes, telling him he needs to head back to his quarters or he will be subject to disciplinary measures. Kougami’s finally sweating, a bruise starting to darken on the bottom of his jaw where Kagari had managed to get a lucky swing in.

“Thank you,” Kagari murmurs, clapping his hand against Kougami’s outheld one briefly.

The corners of Kougami’s lips twitch up in a small smile.

It’s only later when Kagari wakes up in the morning with a pleasant ache in his muscles that he realizes he didn’t have any more nightmares that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic started out as gen, but will feature some Kagari/Akane, once I get there. If you squint, you could probably imagine a bit of Kagari/Everyone in this. Title of the series taken from the song _Oh, Comely_ by Neutral Milk Hotel. Un-betaed, all mistakes are my own. Comments appreciated!
> 
> Edit: Now with rich text formatting. Didn't realize that the italics weren't showing up when I transferred them from Microsoft Word. This is what I get for not proofreading....


	2. Yayoi Kunizuka

“Kunizuka-san,” Kagari calls from where he’s typing up his report. He’s missing some data about the last case they’re working on—he’s got everything except for the apartment unit number--“Kunizuka-san”—he calls again, which he could have sworn he recorded on one of his holograph files somewhere…”Kunizuka-san?”--but he doesn’t feel like digging through the mess of games and work files on his desktop to just find the damn—

 

            “Kunizuka!” he hollers, turning around in his spinning office chair.

 

            When he turns he sees her at her desk, fingers rapidly typing away at her own copy of the report, head bobbing along to some phantom beat. She’s got her wireless ear buds in, he realizes, jamming out to whatever she’s listening to. He shouldn’t be surprised—she was a guitarist, after all, and out of all the other people in the office she’s the only one that consistently likes listening to music.

 

            He looks around his desk, grumbling when he realizes that there’s nothing he can use to throw out her, before taking out one of the pins in his hair and flicking it at her head (he’s got impeccable aim).

 

            Kunizuka barely even reacts when the metallic accessory hits the back of her head, just takes one ear bud out as she continues typing with the other hand. Thumping bass and wild, intricate guitar riffs immediately blares out of the ear bud, filling the silent space of the office and Kagari winces a little.

 

            “What is it?” Kunizuka says, eyes still on her screen.

 

            “Aren’t you scared you’re gonna go deaf with those things blasting into your ears all the time?” He says, watching as her fingers fly on the keys in time to the fast beat of the song. It’s kind of mesmerizing, actually, the way her fingertips press so quickly and accurately against the buttons. He can only imagine what she was like when she was performing on stage—if all the rumors are true, her band was well on it’s way to becoming one of the top bands in the country.

 

            “No. What do you want?” she says.

 

            “The apartment number?”

 

            “634N.”

 

            “Oh. Thanks,” Kagari says, turning back around to face his workstation. The music quiets as Kunizuka puts the set back into her ears, body slightly moving to the beat again. She’s always had a rather stern expression on her face that intimated him, and while it hadn’t taken him too long to realize that she was actually a pretty cool chick, there was no denying that she had scared the shit out of him when he had first met her. She mostly liked to keep to herself, though he guessed that was to be expected after all the stuff she had gone through. Though Ginoza liked to stick them on the same team more often than not, Kagari had never actually gotten to know her very well.

 

            He finishes typing up his report, listening to the quick taps on Kunizuka’s keyboard beating out a rhythmic song of their own.

 

            It’s really interesting. He’s never heard anything like the music she always listens to, besides some occasional stuff he hears in passing whenever they pass by a club or something on a mission.

 

            He never really listened to music like most teenagers did. The most he’d ever done musically was play some virtual guitar games on the Net, and they probably aren’t like the real thing at all. He wonders what it’s like to be a musician. It’s such a _different_ profession, not like working in an office or working machines. Not a typical job, almost a sort of classic profession. There weren’t too many artistic jobs out there anymore, so she must have had to work really hard (and be amazing) to become a government-sanctioned band…

 

            “What?”

 

            Kagari startles a little. “Huh?”

 

            Kunizuka’s stopped typing, one ear bud in hand and attention fully on him.

 

            “What did you say?”

 

            Kagari flushes a little, hoping that he hadn’t just said all of that out loud.

 

            “Uhm…I said that your music… it’s cool. I’ve never heard anything like it.”

 

            Kunizuka squints at him like she’s not sure whether he’s making fun of her or not.

 

            “I…I don’t really listen to music much. Or at all,” he says awkwardly, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck. He thinks this might be the longest conversation she’s ever had with him.

 

            “Would you like to listen?” She says suddenly.

 

            He blinks, surprised as she removes the other bud and rests them both in her palm, offering them out for him to take.

 

            “Oh…sure.”

 

            Gingerly taking them out of her hand, he puts them into his own ears. At first it’s all just blaring vocals and pounding bass, and then the music mellows out and the guitar swoops in. Kagari feels his heart rate pick up in time with the swell of the music and he finds himself closing his eyes. The music builds and builds, melodies and notes painting vibrant colors behind his eyelids, the exploding noises turning themselves into swirls of emotion, feelings that he’s never felt before.

 

            He feels like he’s flying with it, the vocalists impassioned voice demanding him to move, and he wants to stand up and move his body to the beats, clap his hands to the rhythm, and before he knows it the song is over, already blending in to the next one.

 

            This one is vastly different, a melancholic sort of song. It’s slow, the guitar quieting and supporting the bass. The singer sounds…mournful, he decides. An ode to something maybe, or a broken promise. He doesn’t listen much to the actual lyrics, just takes the time to feel the song, his breath slowing, muscles in his body relaxing.

 

            It’s beautiful; a haunting melody that curls around his ears and settles deep into the pits of his stomach.

 

            The next song after that is yet again different, a cheerful catchy tune that sounds like would be played at a café on a weekend off. Not that he knows what that would be like, but he imagines that this would be the type of song that normal people get to hear. Happy people get to hear.

 

            Two songs later and the audio stops. Kagari opens his eyes reluctantly. His body is slumped in his office chair, so low that his head is practically just cushioned on the seat, the rest of him a loose tangle of limbs on the floor. This is the most relaxed he’s been in ages, and he wishes that there were more songs that she had.

 

            Kunizuka looks like she’s finishing up the last of the report, typing one last sentence.

 

            “T-thank you,” Kagari says quietly, walking over to place the ear buds on her workstation table.

 

            Kunizuka hits “send” on the report.

 

            “How was it?”

 

            “Good,” Kagari says honestly, thinking of the balance of fast songs and softer tunes. It had felt…almost like a chase. Almost like the list of songs themselves had a personality, like they were telling a story of some sort. “I’ve never listened to music like that before.”

 

            “’Music like that?’’” Kunizuka questions.

 

            “I mean…music that made me feel like that. We weren’t allowed to have our own music at the facility. I guess they were scared we would get ideas, or feel certain ways we weren’t supposed to feel,” Kagari says. He thinks of some of the more serious songs on there, the angry feelings that they made him feel, and yeah, the doctors in the facility definitely wouldn’t have let him listen to that stuff.

 

            “What did you listen to?”

 

            _My own thoughts_ Kagari wants to say, but even that’s a little dark. Once again true though; most of the time it was just his own voice occupying the vacuum-like emptiness of his cell. Part of the reason he’s so talkative, he supposes—at least talking out loud reaffirmed that he wasn’t dead and just floating in some soundless space.

 

            “Whatever shit the facility happened to play,” Kagari says.

 

            “Oh, please don’t tell me you’ve only listened to that therapeutic, relaxation crap,” Kunizuka says, voice flat.

 

            “I’ve only ever listened to ‘that therapeutic, relaxation crap.’” Kagari says solemnly.

 

            He doesn’t think he imagines the flash of sympathy in her eyes. It’s not like he had a choice—it was either the therapeutic shit or his own voice, and as much as he thought he had a nice voice, he got tired of hearing it sometimes too.

 

            “Did you like this?” Kunizuka says, holding up the ear buds.

 

            “Yeah. Why?”

 

            “Would you like me to make you a list of songs?”

 

            Kagari turns to appraise her again, eyebrows raised. “Really?”

 

            “Really,” Kunizuka says. “It’s not too hard—I’ll make a list and then send you the files tomorrow.”

 

            Kagari feels something warm flutter in his chest. “Sure…thank you.”

 

            He thinks this might be the first time he’s ever seen her smile.

 

            She nods, standing up and taking the ear buds with her. He watches her leave, and thinks that he really, really doesn’t know much about Kunizuka. But he would like to, because on top of being a badass Enforcer, she’s also cool. And got great taste in music.

 

            The next day Kagari walks in to the office, he finds a pair of ear buds, identical to the ones Kunizuka had, sitting at his workstation next to a small jump drive labeled “listen to me –from YK” on it.

 

            He listens—he flies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was planning on updating this once a week, but I got too excited so here's the second part. I keep going back and finding typos and it's really embarrassing, so please point them out if you see them, and spare me the face-palming later on. 
> 
> Since Kagari frequently gets "stuck" with Kunizuka on missions, I figured it would be nice to show them bonding over something. :) 
> 
> Also, I'm on [tumblr](http://scalethewalls.tumblr.com), for those of you that are on too.


	3. Tomomi Masaoka

“Hey, punk,” Masaoka says, snatching the beer out of his hands, “no drinking on the job. Are you even old enough to be drinking yet?”

 

            Kagari lets out an undignified squeak when he tries (and fails) the grab the bottle back from Masaoka.

 

            “I’m 21, Pops, relax! I’m not even on duty right now,” Kagari whines, jumping when Masaoka holds the bottle over his head. Damn the tall bastard. “Give it back!”

 

            “What is this? A light beer? Pah!” Masaoka chuckles in his deep voice. “This is more juice than alcohol, can’t even be called a drink!”

 

            Kagari glares. “I’m not about to get smashed while I’m writing a report. Give it here and let me finish it.”  

 

            Masaoka holds it under his nose for a sniff, expression wrinkling. “Kids like you shouldn’t be ruining your brains with this sort of distilled wheat crap,” he grumbles, swishing the liquid around in its container. He’s got a good-natured smirk on his face though, cheeky grin making his cragged and wrinkled face look just a bit more youthful.

 

            “I don’t even know what ‘distilled’ means, jii-san,” Kagari snarks back, which makes Masaoka throw his head back and laugh. Kagari would never admit it, but he kind of loves when Masaoka teases him—even thought it also annoys the shit out of him. Everyone calls Masaoka Pops except Ginoza. And though Masaoka’s obviously not Kagari’s real dad, it’s nice. It’s nice to have Masaoka there to poke fun at him, and nice that he really does feel kind of like a father that Kagari never had. (That the facility and his own cloudy psycho pass never let him have.)

 

            “I’m not _that_ old,” Masaoka drawls, dumping some of the drink in his mouth and making a face. “Eugh, this crap is nasty.”

 

            Kagari makes an embarrassing distressed noise when Masaoka finishes the rest of it. “Hey—!“

 

            “Listen, kid, come up to my quarters after dinner tonight and I’ll introduce you to some real good stuff,” Masaoka says, tossing the bottle into the trash with a wink. “I’ve got a drink that turns boys into real men. A real first drink, none of this fruity-tooty juice stuff.”

 

            “Hey, quit the chit chat!” Gino grumbles from over at his station, and they quickly get back to work.

 

            Kagari isn’t sure if Masaoka is being serious, but later that night after he finishes up his dinner in the café he goes to find Masaoka’s quarters.

 

            His navigator leads him to it, a complex two floors higher than his with, according to the map, a nice balcony and more space. Typical, since Masaoka’s probably been around a lot longer than he has.

 

            “Door’s open!” Masaoka calls after Kagari knocks.

 

Kagari doesn't know what he expected Masaoka's place to look like. Maybe loud and ostentatious like the man himself. Instead, he finds a spartan, but not uncozy living pad. It looks well lived in, the furniture worn but well kept, an empty coffee mug here and there, and a few books on the table in front of the couch. There’s also an easel and paints set up in one quarter.

 

There are books everywhere, Kagari realizes, an entire shelf full of print books, and more piled high next to the couch. The most jarring (but perhaps expected) thing however are the little trinkets left over from a time past. 

 

A watch resting on the table. A contraption that Kagari thinks at one point was some sort of cleaning device. Relics from the not too distant past. It's strange, he thinks, to realize how differently he and Masaoka must have grown up. 

 

"Have a seat and make yourself at home kid, I'll be with ya in a second," Masaoka says from the kitchen where Kagari can hear the sound of water running. 

 

"You do your own dishes, old man?" Kagari teases, to which Masaoka grunts. 

 

"Don't trust the 'bots to do it right. They always miss a spot," he says. 

 

Kagari grins, flopping back down onto the couch. It sinks under his weight, swallowing him up and immediately making him feel sleepy in a comfortable way. 

 

Not wanting to fall asleep, Kagari plucks a book from the floor and flips through it. 

 

"No pictures?" He says, surprised. Most books on the Net have one. 

 

"No. Pictures in books were only for kids, back when I grew up." Masaoka scoffs, coming out of the kitchen. "Sorry kid. Forgot that I left the good stuff in our storage bins downstairs. Mind waiting a few minutes?" 

           

"Tch, of course your memory would be going bad, Masaoka-san," Kagari says. 

 

Masaoka ignores him, grabbing his shoes from the door. 

 

"Don't go peeing in any corners while I'm gone," he mutters, shutting the door behind him. 

 

"Hey!" Kagari splutters after him indignantly, but he's already gone. 

 

Kagari relaxes back into the couch, looking at the book more closely this time. It's worn, like everything else in the apartment seems to be, and well loved. It's a paperback copy, the glue holding the spine together has already started to fall apart. 

 

He turns pages of the book, marveling at the feel of the yellowing, pulpy feel of the pages beneath his fingertips, and the weight of the book resting in his hands. 

 

It feels...different, he decides. Not bad or good, just strange. He knows that at some point all books were like this, but now they're all on the Net. He starts at the beginning, occasionally forgetting occasionally that he has to manually turn the page instead of just flick upwards on the book. It’s kind of cool.

           

            The book is about a man named Winston living in a place called England, where he has to rewrite history so that it supports what the government wants. Kagari doesn’t see what’s so strange about that—news reports like to do that now, too. The only real reliable place to get information is from the news forums run by regular people, and even those are sometimes censored or faked by the authoritative channels in control of them.

 

            But as he reads onwards, he begins to understand why Winston is frustrated—why he hates “Big Brother”, which, Kagari thinks uncomfortably, sounds a lot like the Sybil system…

 

            “Hey, kid. I see you’ve finally gotten a hobby,” Masaoka says, dropping next to Kagari on the sofa and making him almost jump out of his skin.

 

            “C’mon, old man. Give me some warning,” Kagari complains, setting the book down carefully on the table. It sits like a warning, almost. Kagari tries to shake away the uncomfortable feeling.

 

            “Ah. _1984_ eh?” Masaoka says, going to the kitchen cabinets to retrieve a few glasses and cups. “What does someone as young as you think about an old story like that?”

 

            “…was it really written in 1984?”

 

            Masaoka laughs,

 

            “No, kid. 1949.”

 

            Kagari stares at him in open shock.

 

            “That’s more than 150 years ago!”

 

            Masaoka pops the top off one of the bottles, pausing in his pouring out golden liquor that Kagari can smell even from where he’s sitting.

 

            “Huh. I guess it is,” Masaoka says, dropping a few ice cubes onto the bottom of the glass cups, and handing one to Kagari. “It’s a great read though. I can let you borrow it, if you would like.”

 

            Kagari accepts the cup, sniffing at it a little like Masaoka had done with his beer. It smells strong, almost like gasoline, but not unpleasant.

 

            “You sure you’re allowed to own it? I’ve never heard of it before…seems like something the government would…” Kagari runs a hand over the back of his neck. Masaoka is a good guy; he’s an Enforcer, sure, but Kagari remembers hearing that he was a detective, a real one back before Sybil came online. The book seems highly illegal, but he doesn’t want to accuse Masaoka of being a traitor or anything. Because he isn’t…and even if he is, Kagari thinks, it’s not his place to speak about it.

 

            “A book that the government is trying to get rid of?” Masaoka finishes for him. “It is.”

 

            Kagari stares in shock.

 

            “This book’s been out of print for years, kid. Think I might have one of the last copies left in all of Japan.”

 

            “Oh.”

 

            “But look here. You think it’s the pieces of paper that hold the book together that are dangerous? The glue?” Masaoka laughs.

 

            “Of course not, I’m not dumb.” Kagari says.

 

            “Right. It’s the ideas…they wanna keep us from thinking the same things that Winston did. Incendiary ideas about oppression, the government. Rebellion.”

 

            Kagari shivers at the last word—he can’t help it. He’s been trained to recoil at anything construed as remotely negative towards their government, even though it was the one that condemned him practically before he’d even started developing memories.

 

            “If it makes you uncomfortable, kid, we don’t have to talk about it,” Masaoka says, leaning back into the sofa cushions and taking a sip of his cup of golden liquid.

 

            Kagari hesitantly holds it up to his own lips and takes a drink.

 

            It not only smells like gasoline, it _tastes_ like gasoline too—Kagari gags, nearly spitting the drink back out. He swallows it, and then inhales too fast and ends up aspirating half of it, falling back onto the couch in a coughing fit.

 

            “Aahhhahahaha,” Masaoka roars with laughter, slapping a hand against his knee, head tipped back with mirth.

 

            Kagari is too busy thumping a fist against his own heaving chest to pay him too much attention.

 

            “Wh--,” Kagari wheezes, “are you trying to KILL me, Masaoka-san?!”

 

            Kagari sets the liquid down before he can spill it all over himself, feeling like his lungs are on fire. The liquor, while strong, isn’t unpleasant he realizes soon, the heady taste of it sending his head buzzing pleasantly.

 

            “Hold on, Kagari-kun, I’ll get you a glass of water,” Masaoka chortles, wiping tears of laughter away from his eyes as he pads to the kitchen. He’s got an ice cool glass of water in Kagari’s hand a minute later, and Kagari guzzles it down like his life depends on it.

 

            “I don’t know how you drink this stuff,” Kagari admits. Masaoka shakes his head. “It’s the good stuff. Expensive too, and hard to come by. Made from real malt barley…Japan doesn’t produce it anymore. They say that these spirits are bad for the body…but I think they’re good for the soul.”

 

            Now that he’s done choking to death, Kagari realizes that the old man is right—there IS kind of a pleasant after-burn to it that sits heavy on his tongue and sends pleasant tingles down his spine. He gingerly picks up his glass and takes another sip from it, this time letting the liquid glide its way into his mouth.

 

            “Oh.” The rush of heat the liquor sends to his face is intoxicating.

 

            “That’s what I thought,” Masaoka says, eyes twinkling.

 

            They sit in silence for a little bit, both drinking the liquor until Masaoka nudges him and indicates two other bottles on the table.

 

            “Don’t get too drunk, kid. I’ve got some other goodies I want you to try.”

 

            Masaoka ends up mixing one of the drinks with juice (it’s delicious) and pouring the other one into a tiny little glass he calls a “shot”, which he warns Kagari about as he takes it.

 

            Kagari almost aspirates this one too, but chugs it all down in the last second, vision wavering dangerously when he tries (and misses) to place the glass down on the table.

 

            “I….I think I gotta go to the bathroom,” Kagari mutters, grabbing the arm of the sofa for support when he stands. The ground is literally _swimming_ in front of him, warping unsteadily.

 

            “Hey…what gives, whatdja to do th’ floo—omf!” Kagari catches himself before he face plants into the ground.

 

            “Oh boy,” Masaoka snickers, “haven’t seen someone this shit-faced since my college years. Come on, I’ll help you up,” Masaoka says, hoisting Kagari off the floor and guiding him to the bathroom.

 

            “Maybe I shoulda gone a little easier on you.”

 

            “This isnnn’t fair, how come you’ree not dizzy at aalll?” Kagari slurs.

 

            “I’ve had practice with the real stuff. If you throw up, make sure it lands in the toilet,” Masaoka says.

 

            Kagari pees and splashes some water on his face, watching his features distort weirdly in the mirror. He laughs, pulling at his cheeks, which are hot and flushed a dark red.

 

            “Hey kid, didja drown in there?” Masaoka says, knocking on the door. Kagari stumbles out, walking unsteadily towards the couch and plopping himself back down.

 

            “I think I need to take a break,” Kagari mutters.

 

            “Wouldn’t let you have more if you’d asked,” Masaoke replies, firmly capping the bottle.

 

            “Thanks for letting me drink your booze,” Kagari blurts. “Though I wish I was at a club with a girl instead of here.”

 

            Too late, he realizes how rude he sounded.

 

            “Uh…sorry Masaoka-san…that came out wrong. I’m…I’m really glad you shared your booze with me.”

 

            Masaoke laughs. “It’s alright kid. I know how ya feel. How old are you know, 20?”

 

            “21, Masaoka-san,” he says.

 

            “Poor kid. When I was your age, I can’t even begin to tell you all the shit I got up to in my free time. Back then we didn’t have psycho passes, or anything like that. Curfew, pah! We did whatever we wanted to,” Masaoka says with a sigh.

 

            Kagari glances at him with wide eyes. “Really?”

 

            “Oh yeah,” Masaoka grins. “We had this liquor stuff up to our ears—we could start drinking right after dinner, all the way till midnight. Of course, if you didn’t have a pretty little lady on the end of your arm with you, you just looked plain stupid.”

 

            It’s hard to imagine a world without psycho passes, much less without curfews too. And liquor like this? Impossible.

 

            “I ain’t shitting you, kid. Had the time of my life when I was your age.”

 

            “W-what was it like?” Kagari says quietly.

 

            Masaoka finally looks at him, a soft expression in his eyes.

 

            “It was wonderful, Kagari.”

 

            Kagari only half listens as Masaoka launches into a tale of how one night a few buddies and him went to a bar and then a club, and then somehow ended up at a strip club, which lead to a chase when someone stole some lady’s purse, which ended up with Masaoka using his then-unknown detective skills to track him down. Kagari watches Masaoka’s eyes light up with each funny incident, his speech (though slurred) get more animated at the exciting parts of the story, his eyes shine when he talks about the beauty of the woman who thanked him for his heroic act.

 

            Kagari wonders what Masaoka was like when he was young. Maybe a lot like Kagari, loud and flirty, boisterous. Kagari wonders if he’ll ever felt the same intensity of joy that Masaoka did. The love of the hunt. It’s not like Kagari had the choice—it was either this, or be locked up for the rest of his life.

 

            He doesn’t think he can even begin to imagine the types of fun that Masaoka got up to. _Friends_ , Kagari thinks, is such a strange word. Do his doctors count as friends? His therapists, and his coworkers? He thinks he could consider his coworkers friends, though they probably aren’t people he would have normally talked to. Not that he would know what types of people he would have talked to. Pranksters, probably, people who get into trouble. Maybe if he’d learned to control his psychopass, or been born asymptomatic he would have even been friends with—

 

            “Hey, you okay?” Masaoka says, stirring him out of his thoughts.

 

            “Yes,” Kagari says.

 

            “You got something on your mind, kid?”

 

            Kagari hesitates. Must be the alcohol, making his thoughts so loose. And it’s not like he’s got anything left to lose by telling Masaoka.

 

            “All these stories…I’ve never had anything like that before. Friends…I think I had a friend once. A boy in the cell across from mine. We used to make faces at each other whenever we got bored.”

 

            “Yeah? You keep in touch?”

 

            “No.” Kagari bites his lip, swallowing down the sudden sourness in his mouth. “He…was deemed hopeless, after they caught him trying to escape the facility.”

 

            “Shit. I’m sorry.”

 

            Kagari laughs but the sound comes out strangled. “Not your fault. I guess…it’s g-good that I’ve never had as much fun as you then, huh Masaoke-san?”

 

            “Hm? Why’s that?”

 

            “Well. You can’t miss what you don’t know. You were born free—do anything and everything you want. To have that taken away from you now as an Enforcer must be painful, since you remember what it was like to be your own person. Me, I never had that. I was born with…with chains. So I don’t miss something I don’t know. You, telling me your stories is as strange to me as reading about people who used to live under Kings rules, or people who used to ride horses. I know they’re all real, but I can’t imagine them in my own life.”

 

            Kagari jumps a little when he feels a heavy hand settle on his shoulder.

 

            “You’re not evil, Kagari.”

 

            Kagari avoids his eyes.

 

            “You can’t tell me that, senpai…what sort of monster has their crime coefficient higher than 200 as a child? You tell me that.”

 

            Kagari feels the grip on his shoulder tighten to the point of pain and he glances up, ready to swear at Masaoka only to find him looking down with an expression that Kagari doesn’t think he’s ever seen before.

 

            “Kid…you are not evil. You didn’t deserve your label.”

 

            “But the Sybil System—“

 

            “You really gonna leave you’re fate for someone unknown “Big Brother” government to decide, Kagari? You’re smarter than that. You know yourself best. Look deeply at yourself. Do you think you deserved this life?”

 

            “That doesn’t have anything to do with it,” Kagari snarls, “I must have… I must _be_ a criminal. The psycho pass system can find anybody that’s evil. Thanks, Masaoka-san, but you don’t need to try and pamper me and tell me that I’m not a…a…” Kagari chokes, feeling pressure build behind his eyes. He swallows hard. “A dirty dog. I was born scum. If I weren’t here…I’d be out there with the rest of the criminals in society. Only a matter of time,” Kagari bites, hands going over his head to cup the back of his neck and twist his fingers into the short hair there. It’s a thought that doesn’t come out often, but the alcohol has laid his brain out for all to see, stripping away everything.

 

            Kagari doesn’t think it could be possible to hate someone more than he hates himself.

 

            “Kagari, listen to me.” Masaoka takes his chin firmly and turns it upwards, until they’re staring at each other, Masaoka’s face blurring slightly and _why is there water in my eyes?_

 

            “You are not a machine. You are not a label. You are one of the funniest young men I’ve met, smart, kind, and a wit that reminds me of myself. I would like to think we would have been best friends, had you been born a few decades earlier. I still consider you my friend, even though you can be annoying sometimes,” Masaoka says with a gentle smile. “You are not an animal…not a dog. Sybil is wrong…”

 

            Kagari gasps a little, surprised at the admission. If he said that in public, he would certainly be arrested.

 

            “Sybil is wrong,” Masaoka says firmly, like him saying it will make it true (and maybe it does). “You deserve to be happy. You deserve…to live, Kagari. You’re not a monster. You’re a human.”

 

            Maybe it’s the alcohol, but Kagari doesn’t remember much after that, just the warmth of Masaoka’s arms as he wrapped him in a hug, the solid and steady beat of the man’s heart as Kagari sobbed into his chest, confused and scared of the sudden onslaught of his emotions.

 

            Kagari doesn’t have the words within him to say what he needs, so he clings harder and wails, letting go into the safety of a father’s embrace he never had.

 

            “I know, I know,” Masaoke says soothingly, “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got away from me and ended up being twice as long as I was aiming for. I love the idea that Masaoka is a dad figure to everyone on the team.


	4. Nobuchika Ginoza

            Ginoza’s shoulders cut a straight black line, stiff and formal. It’s at odds with the way that his head is always ever so slightly tilted to the right, like he can’t shake the exhaustion that clings to him like a blanket.

 

            Kagari wasn’t ever aware that a human being could consume so much coffee without having a heart attack, but that was before he met Ginoza. Even now, Gino’s is collected and alert, the permanent scowl on his face deepening as he rotates the pictures on his computer screen, trying to see from every angle.

 

            He’s a great inspector, Kagari knows, though he wishes sometimes that Gino weren’t so cold.           

 

            Kagari tries not to take the fact that he calls them hunting dogs too seriously. It started as a joke, when Ginoza had called them dogs again on some mission or another, and Kagari had shot back that if they were hunting dogs, then he was a dumb old shepherd that had to herd them. And somehow, it had stuck, until the entire MWPSB had taken to calling Enforcers dogs and Inspectors shepherds.

 

            Kagari glances over at him now, back ramrod vertical in his chair, attention focused on the report in front of him. Kou was right—he really _does_ look like he has a stick shoved up his ass.

 

            Except.

 

            Today, there is a small and colorful jar sitting next to Ginoza on his desk, unopened. There is what looks like rainbow pebbles in it, obnoxiously bright against the otherwise drab grey of Ginoza’s office desk. Kagari has a second to wonder if they’re marbles before dismissing the idea. Ginoza doesn’t have time for such triflings as toys—he’d said as much when he was the little display of pet dinosaurs Kagari kept in his office cubicle. Something about unnecessary distractions. 

 

            “What is it, Kagari?” Ginoza says without looking up from where he’s working, typing rapidly on the report. Kagari startles a little, looking away nervously. It’s uncanny how aware Gino is of his space and surroundings.

 

            “…Nothing, Gino-san.”

 

            Ginoza turns around, catches the sight of Kagari’s gaze, and pieces things together embarrassingly quickly. Kagari tries to look as interested in the report in front of him as he can.

 

            “This?” Ginoza holds up the colorful jar and shakes it a little, the small pebbles clattering around in the glass confinement. He looks…amused isn’t quite the right word for it, but less stoic than he usually does.

 

            “Yeah,” Kagari admits sheepishly. “Didn’t know you liked to collect rocks, Gino. But that’s cool. I guess.”

 

            Kunizuka snickers from her workstation while Tsunemori turns from hers to look on curiously.

 

            “Those aren’t rocks, Kagari,” Tsunemori says quietly, giving Kagari a bemused look. “Haven’t you ever had konpeito before?”

 

            At this, even Kou turns from his workstation, while Masaoka just glances over with that sympathetic gaze he sometimes gets when looking at Kagari.

 

            “No I haven’t.”

 

            Ginoza raises an eyebrow.

 

            “What? What is it with you guys?” Kagari mutters, rubbing at the back of his neck.

 

            “Everyone’s had konpeito before,” Kou says bluntly. Kagari glares.

 

            “Here,” Ginoza says, standing up from his chair and walking over to Kagari’s station. “You can have this.”

 

            Kagari stares at the jar on his desk, not quite sure what just happened. Ginoza doesn’t make a habit of talking to them much, and besides the conversations they had in the beginning when Ginoza was still explaining the job, they don’t talk at all. A gift?

            “Try it.”

 

            Hesitantly, Kagari reaches out to grab the jar. It’s lighter than he thought it would be—definitely not rocks, then. And now that he can see them up close, they don’t look like marbles either; they’re uneven and slightly spiky looking, plinking against the glass whenever he shakes the jar.

 

“Don’t worry, it’s not poison,” Ginoza deadpans. Tsunemori gives an encouraging smile.

 

            Ginoza never seemed like the prankster type, but now Kagari isn’t so sure. He unscrews the cap, leaning down a little so he can sniff at whatever is inside. It’s odorless, whatever it is, save for a slightly fruity smell.

 

            He reaches in and grabs one, and before he can think too much about it, pops it into his mouth.

 

            His eyes widen.

 

            It’s almost intense to the point of overwhelming, the flavors dissolving on his tongue and coating his mouth as he swishes the candy from one side to another. It tastes like an apple, from the one time that Kougami had brought a few back from the countryside. It was perfectly sweet with just a hint of sourness, with the same crisp taste that Kagari had learned to associate with falling leaves, since that was the season when Kougami had brought the fruit.

 

            Before long the candy is gone, leaving only a lingering sugariness on his tongue. He takes another from the jar, this one a pink one, with trembling fingers before popping it into his mouth too, marveling at the brief clash of the sour apple against the borderline-too-sweet “watermelon”.

 

            Out of the corner of his eye, Kagari sees Ginoza watching him carefully.

 

            “Do you like them?” Ginoza says, a hint of a smile on his lips.

 

            By the time the day comes to a close, he's almost halfway through the jar. And he’s shaky and hyper from too much sugar, and Masaoka’s laughing, and Kagari can see Ginoza face palming out of the corner of his eye.

 

            Ginoza'll say that he regrets introducing Kagari to sugar and candy, because after that Kagari can't seem to get enough. But every month after getting the jar of konpeito, Kagari always finds a new small bottle of sweets on his desk, from Ginoza.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was running really low on motivation to write this for a really long time. I'm sorry this chapter is so short; it was, for inexplicable reasons, like trying to wring blood from a stone. Life has been awfully stressful.  
> Anyway, I hope you guys like this nonetheless. I hope to revisit Ginoza and Kagari some time in the near future, and I've already got a drabble or two in the works. 
> 
> I was always really interested in how Kagari got his sweet tooth. I assume that they probably never gave it to him while he was in the facility, since they were scared it would exacerbate his hyperness. It's a headcanon of mine that he has ADHD. So, I thought it would be interesting (and ironic) for Ginoza to be the one to accidentally introduce Kagari to sweets. 
> 
> Comments/kudos, as always, are appreciated and keep me motivated. :) Thanks to everyone who's been keeping up with this story, and I promise the next (and final!) chapter between Tsunemori and Kagari will be longer!


End file.
